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Published: September 08, 2009
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From zero it does sport a reddish hue.
It radiates a blazing crimson light
And, with majestic tint of purple too.
But ninety is the climax of its might;
For pulsing through the clear diffracted blue,
Shines brilliant beams of pure and holy white.
One eighty is the scarlet born anew:
A phoenix of the first with fire as bright,
But as all flames must die, so will it do.
Two seventy then reigns with dark, as night;
And all will sleep except the bitter few,
Anxious 'til the red returns to sight.

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